Unexpectations
by Lailara
Summary: Our favorite Dynamic Duo meets the Angel Investigations crew.... Crossover with Angel: the Series


Title: Unexpectations  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: PG-13, for mild language and slight mysogenistic overtones...  
Category: Action, Crossover  
Distribution: My Site, FanFiction.net, IMFanFic List, anyone else, just ask...  
Summary: Darien and Bobby go to everyone's favorite karaoke bar...  
Author's Note: Obviously, this story is AU. In my world, Kate never got fired from the LAPD and Alex doesn't work at the Agency, but the Agency is under Health and Human Services.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Stu Segal, SciFi, Joss Whedon, Kuzui/Sandollar Productions, and/or various other entities I've probably forgotten.  
  
{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}{*}  
  
"What *is* this place, Hobbes?" Darien asked as they pulled upto a slightly dingy-looking bar. "What the hell are we doing here?"  
  
"Will ya stop asking so many questions?" Hobbes shot back. "This place belongs to a friend of mine."  
  
"Come on, Hobbesy! There's gotta be better places in LA to drink beer than this!"  
  
"Will ya stop whining while your at it, too? This is just the outside. Inside's real nice, come on," he said, jumping out of the van.  
  
Darien looked around as if to check for anyone he might know. "I cannot believe this," he muttered and stepped onto the curb.  
  
"Stop mumbling and try to enjoy yourself," Bobby chided.  
  
"Fine. What does this name mean, anyhow? What is that, Spanish?" Darien pointed at the sign above the door.  
  
"I think it means 'mercy.' I dunno. You'll have to ask Lorne."  
  
"Lorne? Your friend."  
  
"That's right," Bobby put his hand on Darien's shoulder causing him to turn around. "Look, I better tell ya something about Lorne."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"Well," Bobby started, "He's not like other people."  
  
"Why? Is he gay? No, no, wait. More ludicris," Darien thought for a moment, "I've got it! He's got green skin and red horns!" He burst into a short fit of laughter.  
  
Bobby could barely contain his shock. "Yeah, uh, sure thing, partner. Come on," Bobby began pushing at his younger partner.  
  
"All right, all right, I'm going."  
  
The bar was filled with bright lights and disco music. Darien surveyed the crowd, or rather the lack there of. A few people sat at a table near the center of the room. They were laughing and drinking, just looking happy. Darien briefly wondered why there was only one woman in the group, but quickly dismissed the thought.  
  
"Welcome to Caritas!" a voice boomed. Darien looked in the direction of the voice and nearly collapsed in surprise. Bright green skin and red horns. And a very bright blue suit.  
  
"Lorne! Long time, no see, my friend!" Bobby proclaimed as he hugged the green-skinned man.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Who's your friend, handsome?" Lorne asked, leaving one arm draped over the senior partner's shoulders.  
  
"This, my friend, is my partner Darien Fawkes. Fawkesy, this is Lorne."  
  
"Lorne? Uh, uh..." Darien stuttered, but quickly stuck his hand out shake Lorne's.  
  
"Darien, sweetie, speak!" Lorne laughed. "Bobby, where do ya want to sit tonight?"  
  
"Somewhere in the middle is just fine," Hobbes smiled, "Not jumpin' tonight, huh?"  
  
"Give it time, Robert," The Host smiled.  
  
"Hobbes, don't ya think you coulda prepared me or something?" Darien grabbed Hobbes' elbow.  
  
Bobby shrugged him off. "I tried to, Darien, but you wouldn't listen to me. Your problem."  
  
Darien followed him closely, as not to be caught unawares again.  
  
They were sat down at a round table next to the one with the four people Darien had observed earlier. He got a closer look at them as he and Bobby sat.  
  
The girl was lovely with her short, dark hair and bright eyes. The three men that sat with her were very different, however. One of them, he heard, had an accent somewhat like Claire's. Another one of them was a black kid and looked like he was ready to fight at any moment. The other one was looking around the room warily, as if worried about a threat to his friends. No, Darien deduced, his family.  
  
"Fawkes, wake up, will ya? Ramon's asked ya twice what ya want to drink," Bobby sniped.  
  
"Oh, a beer. Whatever ya got's fine," Darien muttered.  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll be back with your drinks, uno momento, fellas," Ramon smiled and walked off towards the bar.  
  
"What's got you so interested over there, partner?" Bobby punched at Darien's elbow, knocking it off the table.  
  
"Hey! Knock it off. Just people-watchin', man," Darien protested.  
  
"You were looking at the beautiful broad over at that table, weren't ya?"  
  
"I'm lookin' at everybody, man. Not just the 'beautiful broad', as you so elegantly put it, Hobbes," Darien sighed.  
  
"Yeah, so, how many people are you seeing? Cause all I see is us and the four at that table over there."  
  
"Ok, I'm looking at her, but I'm looking at the others at her table, too."  
  
Suddenly the laughter at the other table quieted down as the girl clutched at her forehead. The three men all looked at her with concern etched deep in their brows. Lorne was there to hand the girl a drink when she recovered.  
  
"Oh," Bobby murmered, "Lorne!" He motioned for The Host to come over.  
  
"Whatcha need, Bobby?" he asked. "I've kinda got a situation over here."  
  
"What can ya tell me about that group over there, my man?" Hobbes inquired.  
  
"Hobbesy, come on, man. Drop it," Darien urged.  
  
"Nah, I want to know. So?" Bobby looked at the lounge singer hopefully.  
  
"They have a business here in town. The girl and the tall, dark, and broody one come from a small town a couple of hours from here. Sunnydale, I think."  
  
"Hmm, heard of it. Continue," Bobby smiled.  
  
"The one with the glasses is originally from England. He came through Sunnydale, as well. The other one, well, let's just say he's definately a local."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean, Lorne. Never mind, I don't think I want to know. These four got names?" Bobby watched the group like a hawk.  
  
"Cordelia Chase, Charles Gunn, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and Angel."  
  
"Angel? He got a last name?"  
  
"I'm sure he did at one point or another."  
  
"Thanks, Lorne," Bobby smiled, slipping The Host a twenty.  
  
"No problem, handsome."  
  
"Why's he so quick to give you so much, Hobbes?" Darien looked at his partner suspiciously. He glanced over to their fellow occupants. They were in a hurry to pay and leave from the looks of it.  
  
"I helped him out a while back. He was going to lose the bar, and I called the Feds off of him. I convinced them that he was a legit businessman."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Hey, I'll be right back."  
  
"Where you going?"  
  
"I'll be back." Bobby got up and walked to the other table. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but see that you all look like someone just died. Anything me and my partner can help with?"  
  
"No. Now get out of our way," the tall one growled.  
  
"Angel! The man's just a concerned citizen! The very people we are supposed to help!" the girl-- Cordelia, Bobby remembered --snapped.  
  
"It's all right, miss. You're in a hurry. But my partner and I truly do want to help."  
  
"Your partner? What're y'all? Cops?" the one the Host had called Gunn piped up.  
  
"Not quite," Bobby flashed his badge, "Federal agents."  
  
"Oh, yeah, we could use the help. Get your partner, now!" Cordelia screamed as she collapsed into the British guy's arms.  
  
"Again? Doesn't she usually get a break between these things?" Gunn yelled at Angel.  
  
"Yeah, she does," Wesley offered, cradling the girl in his arms.  
  
"Darien! Get over here. We're on the job!" Hobbes shouted. "Now, will one of youse explain what's wrong with her?"  
  
"She gets visions," Angel hissed quietly.  
  
"Visions? Like what, she can see the future?" Darien asked, coming up behind Bobby.  
  
"We need to get outta here!" Cordelia shouted.  
  
"Ok, we can take the van. She can lie down in the back," Bobby offered.  
  
"Fine, let's go," Angel said, picking her up.  
  
Bobby threw some cash on their table and fished in his pockets for his keys. "Let's go, then."  
  
*******************  
  
The six people got in the van and sped away. Introductions were made and everyone got down to their business.  
  
"Angel," Darien started, "so, what are these visions usually about?"  
  
"They usually contain images, a name, maybe an address of a person the Powers want us to help," Wesley stuck in.  
  
"The Powers?" Darien looked around the group suspiciously.  
  
"Hey, don't look at me," Gunn said, "I'm just here to kill me some demons."  
  
"Demons?" Darien asked. "Wait. What are you telling me? Demons?"  
  
"Yeah, demons, white boy," Gunn spoke rather pointedly.  
  
"So, what other mythology is real? Cerberus?" Darien said, mockingly.  
  
"That is one nasty mother," Angel whispered.  
  
"Huh?" Darien stared at him in shock.  
  
"Hey, don't forget about Sasquatch, my friend," Bobby sniped from the front seat.  
  
"Oh, yeah, the 'squatch," Darien reminesced.  
  
"Where we going, miss?" Bobby asked Cordelia.  
  
"The warehouses down by the docks on the southside," Cordy said through clenched teeth. Bobby only nodded and started planning the best route.  
  
"Again, I ask: The Powers? What powers?" Darien pushed his way back into the conversation.  
  
"The Powers That Be. That's where we get our orders," Wesley said, leaning against one of the van's walls.  
  
"The Powers That Be what?" Darien asked.  
  
"That's what I said," Angel murmured.  
  
"You guys wanna start from the beginning?" Darien inquired.  
  
"Do we have that much time? I mean the story goes back about two hundred years," Cordelia said sarcastically.  
  
"I think he means *our* story. As a whole. Well, Darien..." Wesley spoke evenly and without feeling.  
  
"You sound like Keepy when you say my name. Dah-rien. Doesn't he, Hobbes?" Darien mocked a little.  
  
"Yeah, kinda, my friend," the older agent answered.  
  
"Keepy?" Gunn asked.  
  
"Yeah, my Keep -- I mean, uh, my friend, Claire Keeply. We call her 'Keepy' for short," Darien covered his mistake carefully.  
  
"Oh," Wesley took off his glasses and began cleaning them as he spoke again, "We're from a little town called Sunnydale. Well, Cordy and Angel are. Gunn's a native of Los Angeles. I'm from England. We own a detective agency called 'Angel Investigations' and we -- to quote Cordelia -- help the hopeless. We'd rather not say anymore. Everything else is personal or a little classified and not just given out to anyone."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure," Bobby said, "Well, we're Department of Health and Human Services on assignment. We were actually sent here to find you. The Official has taken quite an interest in your work."  
  
"The Official?" Wesley asked.  
  
"Uh-huh, our boss. He thinks Chrysalis is behind your recent case overload."  
  
"Chrysalis?" Wesley asked again.  
  
"Yeah, evil anti-government organization. Anyway, we're here to help in anyway possible. Our friend Claire is back at our hotel waiting to be picked up. She had business to attend to before she could join us," Bobby said.  
  
Darien checked his wrist and twisted around to speak to Hobbes. "We gotta head back to the hotel. If we're going in, I'm going to need a shot."  
  
"Sure thing, there, buddy," Bobby said good-naturedly, as if he hadn't a care in the world.  
  
"A shot? There's something you're not telling us, Agent Fawkes," Angel spoke louder than he had the entire conversation.  
  
"Yes, you're right. And I would love to give you all the gruesome details, but it's all very classified," Darien reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the Keeper's cell phone number from memory. "Hiya, Keepy. Yeah. Yeah, we're on our way. Hobbesy, Keepy's asking for an 'E.T.A.'"  
  
"Two minutes."  
  
"Two minutes, Claire. Ok, you got the stuff ready? Good. I only have two green segments left. Yeah, all right, bye." Darien hung up the phone.  
  
Angel eyed the young agent suspiciously. Something about him smelled wrong. Smelled inhuman almost. Maybe metallic. He couldn't quite pinpoint it.  
  
"Two green segments?" Cordelia asked.  
  
Darien held up his wrist. "It's *my* curse. I've got to keep an eye on it."  
  
"We're almost there, Fawkesy," Hobbes called from the front seat.  
  
"Thanks, buddy. I must say, I didn't expect you all to be so... freaked out by all this," Darien commented as the van came to a stop and a small knock was heard on the van door. Darien reached over and opened the door to the smiling face of his Keeper. "Come on, Claire. Join the party," he smirked.  
  
"Gladly, give me your arm," she said climbing into the van.  
  
"Excuse us," Darien asked the group.  
  
Angel watched every movement the young blonde woman made. From laying out the supplies needed, to carefully pulling a vial of clear blue liquid out of her bag. She prepared Darien's arm for the needle and injected him with the blue substance. Angel could hear the agent's heart beat faster for the split second the needle entered his vein.  
  
"Thanks, Keep," Darien said softly, holding a piece of cotton to his arm. He looked at the four who were looking at him in shock. "It's my curse," he repeated.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Angel asked slightly perturbed.  
  
"Bobby, Darien, and I are federal agents sent by our boss, The Official, to take observance of your actions," the Keeper explained, "This is your debriefing." She began packing all her supplies back into her bag. "Darien, how are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine, Keep, no problems with counteragent," Darien replied rolling his sleeve back down.  
  
"Counteragent?" Gunn looked at the blonde one called Keepy quizically, "Not to be the broken record, but, what the hell is going on here? His arms look like a junkie's!"  
  
"I assure you, he is not a junkie. He's one of my kept. I'm his doctor," she replied as she zipped her medical bag.  
  
"So, what is he?" Cordelia asked bluntly.  
  
"Cordy!" Wesley hissed, "We thought you had gained a handle on this tact thing."  
  
"I've said it before and I'll say it again: Tact is just not saying true stuff," she answered.  
  
"I like that," Darien said, "But to answer your question, I can't answer your question."  
  
"Why not?" Angel asked. His anger was rising and he was growing more and more wary of the "agents" in their company.  
  
"Because it's all very classified," said a new voice from the front seat. "If need arises, you will be informed, but not until then."  
  
"Eberts?!?" Claire cried, "Why was I not told he was coming?"  
  
"I didn't know he was coming, Claire," Bobby said. "He just got in and asked me to be quiet. Said he was here at the Official's request or something."  
  
"Whatever. Eberts, if we're going to help these people, I might have to go QS in front of them, so they might as well know," Darien reasoned.  
  
"Very well, but I am not the one to explain any complications to the Official," Eberts spoke nervously.  
  
"Fine," Darien started, "This is going to be easier to show than tell." He closed his eyes and quicksilvered his entire body. He smiled to himself when he heard the gasps of surprise. Satisfied that he had their attention, he became visible again.  
  
"How did you do that?" Wesley asked.  
  
"Let's just say, it's a gift. One I'd like to be rid of, but a gift," Darien spoke softly, almost regretfully.  
  
"I knew there was something," Angel muttered.  
  
"Stop it with the muttering under your breath!" Cordy chided.  
  
"I don't breathe," he reminded her.  
  
"What?" Claire asked suddenly interested in the conversation.  
  
"I don't breathe," Angel repeated.  
  
"Why not? How? Huh?" Claire stumbled over her words.  
  
"I don't need to breathe. I don't need to eat. And that's all you need to know."   
  
"No, wait, I don't need to know, but I'm curious. I *want* to know," Claire said looking over at the handsome man.  
  
"What, you've never heard of a vampire?" Cordy asked incredulously.  
  
"Myth, that's all. Wait a second, are you trying to tell me that he's a..." Claire trailed off.  
  
"Yeah, he is. But he's the good kind. He has a soul," Cordy explained.  
  
Claire stared for a moment and then glanced over at Darien, who was appently trying to process this new information with no luck. "That's almost as unbelievable as the Sasquatch," Claire said quietly.  
  
"But the 'Squatch is real," Darien said.  
  
"And so are vampires. And demons, and a slew of other things," Wesley interjected.  
  
"We're here, people!" Bobby yelled from the front seat.   
  
Everyone filed out of the van and grabbed a weapon. Angel checked his spring-loaded stakes on his wrists to make sure they were loaded.  
  
"Here," Gunn said as he tossed Darien a stake and an ax. "You might need these if you're going to help." Gunn then handed a stake to Bobby and one to Eberts.  
  
Bobby handed his back. "I don't need that." He pulled out his gun and cocked the slide.  
  
"That won't work on a vampire," Wesley said. "Take the stake."  
  
Bobby grumbled but acquiesced, taking the stake and sliding it into his jacket pocket.  
  
"Let's rock and roll," Gunn said.  
  
*****************  
  
The warehouse was empty, save for a few chained up victims. Claire rushed over to check the prisoners.  
  
"Three dead, two barely, and one without a scratch," she reported.  
  
"Keep, Eberts, get the live ones outta here," Bobby ordered. Claire nodded and followed Eberts back to the wall.  
  
Angel lifted his head and sniffed the air. "We're not alone."  
  
Suddenly, a pack of vampires stepped out of various hiding places. "Nice of you to bring us dinner, Angelus," the leader, a tall blonde girl, said.  
  
"I didn't bring them, Darla," Angel growled and vamped out, "they just followed."  
  
Darla didn't miss a beat and slid her true face over her human features.   
  
"But they all smell so yummy," a soft childlike voice whispered. "Angel-beast," she hissed.  
  
"Who is she?" Bobby asked Gunn.  
  
"Darla and Drusilla, at your service," the blonde one spoke again.  
  
"The moon is telling me things, Invisible Man," Dru said, vamping her own face. She slithered over towards Darien. "He is not afraid of death. He welcomes it," she whispered hovering over his jugular with her fangs. Darien gulped as she backed away from him.  
  
Darla broke her gaze from Dru's show of insanity and turned back to Bobby. "Now, who are you and why are with my darling Angelus?"  
  
"We're just looking for a good rave, honey," Bobby snarled at her.  
  
Darla laughed and backhanded Bobby sending him flying at the Keeper and Eberts, who were still trying to free the prisioners. Bobby groaned and fell unconcious. "Angelus, come home with me. Leave that pesky soul behind and join our unholy crusade," Darla almost pleaded.  
  
"I would, but I'm kind of attatched to it," Angel said softly. He made a motion much like stabbing and brought the stake an inch from the skin on her chest. "You ready to go back to Hell, Darla?"   
  
"Are you?" she asked before knocking him back and throwing him to the ground. She grabbed Dru's wrist and pulled her to the nearest exit.  
  
"Got her," Cordy whispered in concentration as she aimed her crossbow at Darla's back. She pulled the trigger and hit a minion who had slipped in to save his mistresses' lives. A shower of dust sprinkled Dru's boots as she ran.  
  
Angel moved with supernatural speed to catch up with the two run aways. "Ah, ah, ah, ladies, no running from the party," he whispered sensually in Darla's ear. He plunged the stake into her chest and looked away as she exploded into dust.  
  
Dru screamed and ran crying to the nearest door and out into the night.  
  
"Let her go," Angel said, "She'll just run to Spike, who -- with any luck -- will stake her on sight."  
  
"Well, that was interesting," Darien said, trying to stay standing. He blushed a little under Cordy's stare. "What?"  
  
"And you thought we would freak out over an invisible man," she scoffed.  
  
"Man, what happened?" Bobby groaned picking himself up off of the concrete.  
  
"I think you got bitch-slapped, brother," Darien answered.  
  
"Bobby Hobbes does not get bitch-slapped," he protested.  
  
"Well, she wasn't just any bitch, either," Gunn offered, "she was a supernaturally strong bitch."  
  
"Yeah, whatever, a broad's a broad," Bobby said, checking the back of his head.  
  
Cordy reloaded the crossbow and aimed for Bobby. "You wanna take that back?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm sorry, ok," Bobby stuck his hands out to cover his chest, "All right? Now, come on, put that thing down."  
  
A smile worked its way across the woman's face and she lowered the weapon. "That's better. Sheesh, he's almost worse than Doyle was." She looked at Angel, who only nodded.  
  
"Angel, I think maybe you should call Kate and tell her where we are and that there are victims here that need tending to. Tell her we won't be here, but a couple of federal agents will be," Wesley suggested.  
  
Angel nodded and pulled out his cell phone.  
  
"Kate will ask a lot of questions," Cordy warned.   
  
"Who's Kate?" Hobbes asked.  
  
"A lady cop that Angel is friends with. She's helped us out, and we've helped her out," Wesley explained.  
  
"She'll be here in ten," Angel said, closing his cell phone.  
  
"Here," Bobby said, handing Angel the keys to the van. "Just be careful and tell me where I can pick 'er up."  
  
"The Hyperion Hotel," Angel replies.  
  
"Thanks, guys. We'll have dinner tomorrow at my house, ok? As a thank you," Cordelia spoke warmly.  
  
"Yeah, sounds good. We'll just catch a cab back to our hotel and come over in Claire's car to get the van tomorrow. You can give us directions then, Cordy," Darien agreed.  
  
"Ok, see ya then," Cordy smiled.  
  
"Later," Gunn offered his hand in a shake and Darien and Bobby both obliged familiarly. Wesley and Angel just nodded their agreement as the quartet got into the van and rambled off.  
  
"Guys! The police are coming!" Claire yelled. Darien and Bobby shared a smile and went to explain their evening to Detective Kate Lockley.  
  
~*~*THE END*~*~ 


End file.
